The ache in my chest cracks.
I turn.
He looks wrecked.
Not dramatic-wrecked. Eli-wrecked. Eyes tired, jaw tight, curls slightly out of order like he's run his hands through them too many times. His scent hits me—tea and linen and that calm, grounding alpha thing he does—and for the first time in weeks, there's nothing blocking him from leaning into me.
"I can—" He shakes his head like words aren't enough. "We can— The ban's lifted."
"I heard."
Silence stretches.
"Do you want—"
I stare at his collarbone because looking him in the eye might kill me. "If you ask it like that, I'm going to sob."
His throat works.
"Okay. New approach."
He takes two steps forward and wraps his arms around me.
No hesitation. No half measure.
Just contact.
Full, body-length contact.
My breath leaves in a sound that's not pretty. A choking, broken little whine that's pure omega, pureplease.
His scent floods my lungs. My hands fist in the back of his shirt, hauling him in like he's the only solid thing in the world.
"Oh," I say, stupidly, into his chest. "Oh. I forgot."
"Forgot?" he murmurs, tucking his nose into my hair.
"Forgot what this feels like. I've been... rationing memories."
He exhales, long and shaky, right against my scalp. "I'm so sorry. I should have fought harder. I should have—"
"No. No, because then he would have punished you too and I would have—"
"Still. I hated every second."
We stand there like that in the hallway, clinging like we're both afraid someone will walk out and tell us we're wrong.
No one does.
When he finally pulls back, just enough to see my face, his pupils are blown wide. "I'm coming with you. To your room. Unless you don't want that. In which case I'll sit outside the door and lean on it until you change your mind."
My laugh comes out watery. "You're very pushy for a nerd."
"I've had weeks to rehearse this. You're getting the full effect."
"Come on then."
The moment my door shuts behind us, every nerve in my body wakes up.
